You're An-
by CrazySuperHeroine
Summary: 'It doesn't stop his irrational actions but it does shut him up from throwing the different synonyms for 'idiot' at me. But after the initial heartache fades from hearing those words, I'm as good as new. I've grown tired of feeling offended by these insults. However, it still hurts when I hear them from one specific person.' James' POV.


**A/N: I don't know what this is supposed to be. But I'll say it's fluff. Enjoy ze fluff.**

"You're an embarrassment," was Dad's parting words to me before he upped and left, abandoning his family without a single glance back.

It was obvious when Dad first realised I was leaning more to Mum's … _preferences_ than his; that I would rather indulge in the world of cosmetics, fashion and singing over football, video games and whatever else little boys were supposed to be into at my age. Because his dulled hazel eyes refused to meet mine for too long, his usual chatter in the morning before he goes to work reduced to mumbles of goodbye and the proudness of being a father to one of the best-looking children gradually turned into humiliation.

I became his disappointment.

Perhaps catching my twelve year old self posing and belting out to a pretty popular song in front of Mum's dressing table with ridiculously pink cheeks, messed up eyeliner and bright red lips didn't help calm his displeasure.

All I wanted was to explore the different uses of cosmetics and, when my laptop started playing a track by Boys Like Girls, I couldn't help but to showcase my talent- even if was to myself, in front of the vanity mirror. It wasn't as though anyone was home; Mum had to work overnight since one of her newest makeup products was due to release and Dad… Well, Dad usually comes home before eight at night.

How was I to know that he was going to return home early due to a headache on the day I decided to delve into my newfound hobby?

I could never forget how petrified I was; rooted to the ground, ready to take a beating for- what Dad murmured under his breath- being a _fag_.I could never forget the look of pure anger and sadness in his eyes as he stared at me, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists before he roared at me to get out of the god damn bedroom.

I skedaddled out of the house and sought refuge at my best friend's crib, shaking in fear with tears smudging the makeup I still had on my face. It took me hours before I had the guts to return home.

Dad left that very night, claiming that he didn't want a queer as a son- that I was an oblivious idiot if I thought I could get anywhere with the embarrassing skill I called a _talent_\- and that Mum was to blame for the wrong in my upbringing.

He spat in my face with words as venomous as a snake's bite. He told me I wasn't a normal boy and, for as long as I cared about my appearance and singing, I never will be.

* * *

"You're a dimwit," was what Mum said to me, when I came out to her as well as introduced her to the man- well, _boy_. We were both 17 then- I was dating. Her fiery brown eyes hardened when they settled on our intertwined hands, partially hidden beneath our thighs, but all that came out from her lips was an extremely frustrated sigh.

She warned me that this boy, who sat next to me with his head bowed, was going to destroy me, mentally, emotionally and probably physically, no matter how innocent he looks like his shaggy blonde hair and bottle green eyes. She told me looks weren't the only part of a person that was deceiving, so were personalities.

I felt my boyfriend flinch at the harsh words cast towards him as though he wasn't in the room with us, and his fingers shakily squeezed the hand he was holding. I felt him cower until part of him was hidden behind my back and it took all of my strength not to lash out at Mum.

I matched her enraged glare with one of my own, my lips tightened to a thin line as I continued listening to her insulting the frightened teen over and over. With each word thrown, a string holding the 'overprotective boyfriend' part of me snapped.

Then she used Dad as an example.

Even though Mum knew who the love of my life was, mostly because I've been going to the same school as him since kindergarten and had strong friendship ever since our first introduction, she continued pointing out all the bad possibilities I would face just by being with him. Opinions of the public that I didn't wish to acknowledge.

Facts about what my actions would be seen as to the society, the way Dad saw me; an embarrassment, a disgrace to the world, to my mother, who was coincidentally the CEO of a huge makeup company.

Instead of being happy with the fact that I've found someone who loved me as much as I loved him, Mum cursed my relationship, stating that we would never last and, at the first possible opportunity, my lover would run back to a girl. According to her, my boyfriend would want think of his future generation as he grew older and, obviously, I was in no state to give him his wishes. She told me I would be lost and heartbroken, and she won't be there to comfort me anymore.

She basically decided to step out of my life and leave me in the dark, the way Dad did the day he left.

Relationships between two males have always been more complex than others, always been frowned upon by society. I knew that. I've seen all the negativity surrounding gays on the internet and in real life while I walk down the street. I've had front row seats to watching a fellow student get bullied to the extent of suicide all because he preferred his own gender.

I was well aware of the risks and hardship I would have to face, what the media might do to my Mum's company, the hate I'm going to get from people, no matter how close they are to me.

I was _ready_ to come out to the world, even if I have nothing but my boyfriend supporting me from below because he's all I'm ever going to need, now and forever.

And that was exactly what I told her as I rose to my feet, my voice firm with determination and anger, ignoring the look of pure dejection that came onto Mum's face. I managed to shut her up, to push her to the point whereby she was speechless, and I was proud of it.

She then proceeded to bawl and question herself on how I turned out this way, as though being gay was a disease I contracted from some unknown source.

I don't remember what happened after. All that is present in my memories was my lover pulling me out of the house with a few duffel bags.

Maybe Mum just didn't want to come to terms with my sexuality. It's been five years, and she still hasn't.

* * *

"You. Are. A. Pea-Brain," were the exact words I hear from Gustavo's mouth since my audition in Minnesota, until now, after the successful release of our fourth album.

It's become a daily occurrence to hear those words echo down the hallway of the studio- before, during or after practice-, especially if our beloved manager was upset over anything; even the tiniest complication of not getting his morning cup of coffee. If I wasn't used to being such a downer for people I supposedly looked up to, I would've deterred myself from stardom, even though being a teenager's icon has always been my dream.

I've always thought of the stage as my home, and music as the method to express the words that were deeply embedded in my very being to someone, unable to be conveyed through daily conversation. That's why Gustavo's insults have yet to stop me from achieving my dreams.

As long as I'm able to perform, I'm able to speak my mind. And that's all that matters.

But, still, I'm either dancing weirdly, singing badly or just hard to look at because, apparently to him, I resemble Matthew McConaughey. And Gustavo _hated_ Matthew McConaughey with a passion unlike any other.

Not that I minded; seeing his chubby face turn red and his clenched fists shake with anger was funny in a way, especially since we both knew that he couldn't physically harm me. Not if he wanted to keep his records clean.

Therefore the rounded man compensated with working me to the bone.

The band was the reason he's claimed his place as one of the top producers in the world and Kelly painstakingly makes it a point to remind him whenever he lashes out on any of us. It doesn't stop his irrational actions but it does shut him up from throwing the different synonyms for '_idiot_' at me.

* * *

But after the initial heartache fades from hearing those words, I'm as good as new. I've grown tired of feeling offended by these insults. However, it still hurts when I hear them from one specific person.

* * *

"You're _such_ an idiot," was a sentence that would be repeated whenever he catches me doing something I shouldn't be doing.

The first time he said so was right after I asked him out, back when we were still in high school. Well, maybe a few days after. I could remember bolting out of school in the middle of lunch and holding myself up in my bedroom, seeking shelter for my broken heart alone as Mum had to work through the weekday as usual.

He rammed his way into my room, my spare key dangling on his index finger, and declared my idiocy with a pout. The next thing I know, we're cuddling on my bed, about to fall asleep.

Further down the road of our newfound relationship, it became a pained cry of insult after he caught some beach babe trying to push her hand down my swimming trunks while we were on holiday. All I wanted was to sunbathe by the poolside whilst waiting for my blonde boyfriend to finish changing.

Instead, what I received was a lap full of a curvy curly-haired brunette, who immediately suffocated me with her huge chest. I barely glanced at her, ready to shove her off, when I heard my lover's voice end in a gasp.

When I wanted to explain, the blonde boy glared angrily at us, his pale face stained red, and screamed, "You're an ass!"

While I tried to shove the slutty plastic off me, my boyfriend proceeded to run away and lock himself up in our hotel room, leaving me stranded outside in the corridor, freezing in my swimwear, pleading for him to listen to my explanation through the wooden door.

That was the day of our first argument, and also the first day I was scarred by his choice of words.

Then it just became a way for him to tease me. Like when I accidentally tripped in front of a million fangirls while trying to glide from one side of the stage to the other, my attention fixed on the cheering teens in front of me instead of where my foot was. My legs crossed and I stumbled to the floor like a heap of garbage, my girlish yelp of surprise echoing through the speakers.

A flash of blonde passed my blurry vision before they cleared, revealing my lover with a wicked grin on his lips, his green eyes gleaming and sweat rolling down the side of his face. I watched him hold his hand out to me cautiously and allowed him to pull me up. His giggle could barely be heard beneath the loud bass and drums playing, but the cheeky look explained it all.

I grunted and flicked his forehead in retaliation, causing both of us to smirk as we fell back into the choreography smoothly.

After the show, he kissed me gently and whispered, "You're a clumsy ninny."

However, I found out later that he used those exact words to hide his embarrassment. "You dummy!"

All I did was surprise him with a large bouquet of white roses and a ring in the lobby of Palm Woods one morning- granted, I was on my knees. Maybe that was what shocked him-, after he came back from his routine jog. Sweaty, with his cheeks turning several different shades of pink, he accepted my gift and moulded himself into me, crying and murmuring words of elation.

A few months and a ton of paperwork later, Kendall Knight officially became Kendall Diamond-Knight.

* * *

I jolted awake when I felt teeth digging into my nape. With a low moan, I turned to my side and purposely trapped the wriggling boy between my arms. A soft chuckled came from him and I growled, staring down at the blonde mop hiding himself under my chin, "Damn it, Kendall!"

"I was talking and you just blatantly ignored me," he reasoned nonchalantly, nuzzling his nose into my chest softly. I sighed and kissed the top of his head as I tightened my grip on him. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing important." I felt him shift slightly and tilt his head towards me, his bottle green eyes narrowed as though to question my words. I know that he knew about the constant verbal abuse I had to go through while growing up and was able to sense whenever my thoughts were getting the better of me. Instead of elaborating what was swirling in my head, I bit his ear. "Hey, you know… If I'm an idiot, what about you?" I teased, smirking at the shiver that ran down his body when my breath brushed against the lobe I gently nibbled on.

His eyes locked on mine, a darkened shade of emerald green, and the impeccable glint in them shone as he smiled smugly. "Well," he whispered, inching his face closer. "I'm the _imbecile_ who fell in love with you."

**A/N: I'm tired, I haven't been on my A game ever since school ended. I'm pretty much sick. But, hey, who needs a life :p**

**Anyway, I wanted to let you guys know that if you have ANYTHING to tell me, you're all welcomed to post on my tumblr! Like freakin' finally I decided to get back on it. I'm hoping that I could get some art done for Blood Eyes/Electrike &amp; the likes &amp; post 'em there. &amp; I'd like to get some contribution from you guys too!**

**I mean, without you guys, I wouldn't be here.**

**I'll leave my tumblr link in my bio. So do pay it a visit! Follow, too, &amp; I'll follow back! :D**

**Read, Review &amp; Favourite! :3**


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